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I don't "do" pink.Thu, 02 May 2019 22:14:29 GMTLondon marathon 2019 - race report
Last year I got sick for 5 months with multiple viral infections and needed chemo to get rid of the last one, and then it took another 6 months to rebuild my immune system after the chemo. As a result, I couldn’t really stand up for more than a few minutes during that time, let alone run, so I had to DNS or defer every race I cared about.

I started off this year with a sold two months of training in attempt to rebuild what I’d lost in 2018, but then I got ill again for the whole of March. So I was left yet again having to DNS The Big Half, and cram the rest of London Marathon training into the 4 weeks I had left, which I absolutely couldn’t have done without my long-time coach, Barbara at Energy Lab. Even with her expert guidance, however, I was nowhere near back to my usual fitness level come race day so I knew that this year would be my slowest marathon ever. But it was also oddly freeing as I’d never run any of my six previous marathons without chasing some sort of time or qualification.

I also did some soul-searching from my sickbed and realised that being ill every Spring was something I can no longer avoid (despite my best “crazy germ lady” efforts!) and I needed to change my life to work around being ill every Spring rather than being frustrated and disappointed every time my body let me down and got in the way of my ambitions. So this London marathon would be my last for a long time, and I’ll be concentrating on Fall marathons in the future, since I can quite reliably train over the Summer. And if this is the price for being alive the past ten years since my bone marrow transplant, then I have to accept that.

If this was going to be my last London, then by god I was going to enjoy every second of it. This was my only goal for this race, and I achieved this and then some. I can honestly say that I enjoyed EVERY single step of this race.

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Last year I got sick for 5 months with multiple viral infections and needed chemo to get rid of the last one, and then it took another 6 months to rebuild my immune system after the chemo. As a result, I couldn’t really stand up for more than a few minutes during that time, let alone run, so I had to DNS or defer every race I cared about.

I started off this year with a sold two months of training in attempt to rebuild what I’d lost in 2018, but then I got ill again for the whole of March. So I was left yet again having to DNS The Big Half, and cram the rest of London Marathon training into the 4 weeks I had left, which I absolutely couldn’t have done without my long-time coach, Barbara at Energy Lab. Even with her expert guidance, however, I was nowhere near back to my usual fitness level come race day so I knew that this year would be my slowest marathon ever. But it was also oddly freeing as I’d never run any of my six previous marathons without chasing some sort of time or qualification.

I also did some soul-searching from my sickbed and realised that being ill every Spring was something I can no longer avoid (despite my best “crazy germ lady” efforts!) and I needed to change my life to work around being ill every Spring rather than being frustrated and disappointed every time my body let me down and got in the way of my ambitions. So this London marathon would be my last for a long time, and I’ll be concentrating on Fall marathons in the future, since I can quite reliably train over the Summer. And if this is the price for being alive the past ten years since my bone marrow transplant, then I have to accept that.

If this was going to be my last London, then by god I was going to enjoy every second of it. This was my only goal for this race, and I achieved this and then some. I can honestly say that I enjoyed EVERY single step of this race.

I ran with a massive grin on my face from start to finish.

Unlike my other marathons, this never got tough, and I never had to “dig deep”. I ran easy and chatty up to 25k with a friend I made along the way (Hi Mark!), stopped to soak up EVERYTHING at Run dem Crew‘s cheer point at Mile 21 as I knew it’d be my last chance to feel the energy and love, and I even picked up the pace for the Embankment, passing everyone in the last few kilometers to sprint across the line.

My new friend, Mark, and I at Tower Bridge

I ran this marathon, like all my previous marathons, in gear I’d made myself. Specially, I used the Active Leggings design from my “Sew Your Own Activewear” book, shortened to above the knee with an added back waistband pocket to bring the pocket count up to a whopping FIVEPOCKETS! I had plenty of room for my phone and battery pack, Gu and Torq gels, Shot Bloks, and chewable SaltStick Tablets (I’m a very salty sweater and I find the salt helps me even more than the gels!). I finally ditched my hated Brooks Pure Flow shoes for distance running (good riddance!) and a month before I’d bought some Merrell Bare Access Flex shoes to use instead, and I adore them! It’s really difficult to find a barefoot-friendly shoe (wide toe-box, lightweight, zero-drop) with just a little bit of cushioning for longer distances on the road, but these have really ticked all the boxes for me.

Photo credit: Rich Williamson

I also had the pleasure of trying out a new product, ChafeX, which I’d ordered from the States after I’d seen it mentioned in ultrarunner Stephanie Case’s brilliant Barkley Marathons race report. It claims to change the outer layer of skin to prevent chafing and blisters, which intrigued me. I’ve always struggled with blisters on the balls of my feet and big toes, and it’s been especially bad this year for a variety of reasons, meaning I’d get horrific blood blisters (and regular blisters) in much shorter training runs, even through KP tape or Body Glide. Even though I only got to apply ChafeX the day before and the morning of the race, it worked like a freaking dream (they recommend starting three days before your event, but it only arrived in the post the day before)! Honestly, I’m so impressed and so pleased I took the risk of trying it out anyway, as I didn’t get a single blister or hot spot on the bottoms of my feet, which is as close to a miracle as I’ll ever see! I only ended up with a blister on the upper inside edge of each big toe, which is entirely my fault as I forget to apply it there!

Photo credit: Simon Roberts

But seriously, not having pain from hotspots or blisters was such a contributing factor of my enjoyment of the race – it meant I wasn’t wincing at the impact or rough road surfaces later on in the race, and it meant I wasn’t changing the way I ran to make landing on blisters less painful, meaning I had absolutely no muscular niggles or pulls or cramps, either. Happy feet, happy Melissa!

Photo credit: Annie Clarke

I had an absolute BLAST, and it was the happiest I’ve felt in a long, long time. My body may have been through the unimaginable, and it may let me down more often than I’d like, but my body is meant to be running long. This may be the last you’ll see me on the other side of the barrier at Mile 21, but it won’t be the last you’ll see me with a big grin on my face and a marathon medal around my neck.

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http://www.riverrunner.co.uk/110/london-marathon-2019-race-report
Thu, 02 May 2019 15:34:11 GMTMelissa Fehrtag:www.riverrunner.co.uk,2019-05-02:d6ddade2dadbc9fd83d0ad61e0b88077/cff06193b7afa6d07895386da7763d90london-marathonlondonmarathonrun dem crewmentalCroydon Half - race report
Last year I was ill for 5 months and needed chemo to get rid of the final viral infection. As a result I had to DNS The Big Half and defer my London marathon place due to being ill last year. It’s been two years since I’ve run half marathon distance.

I got ill again at the start of March this year and had to DNS The Big Half yet again…. So I signed up for the Croydon Half, hoping I’d feel better by the end of March (I was, but only just!).

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Last year I was ill for 5 months and needed chemo to get rid of the final viral infection. As a result I had to DNS The Big Half and defer my London marathon place due to being ill last year. It’s been two years since I’ve run half marathon distance.

I got ill again at the start of March this year and had to DNS The Big Half yet again…. So I signed up for the Croydon Half, hoping I’d feel better by the end of March (I was, but only just!).

I was back to feeling about 85% better on Sunday but I’d literally missed all of marathon training in March and had no idea how my lungs and legs would cope after a month of sinus and lung infections and three courses of antibiotics!

But I set out to run the first ten miles easy, then try to amp it up for the final three. I knew I’d be running this slower than my usual marathon pace but I settled in around 5:20/km which felt easy despite my elevated heart rate. This was an undulating, two lap course through suburban back streets and the other runners and marshals were super friendly and encouraging so the two times I had to walk short distances uphill to bring my HR down, people asked to make sure I was ok. :)

It turns out that not running for a month turns you into That Person, running with a massive grin and thanking every marshal! Things got hard about Mile 11 but I finished stronger than I was expecting in 1:56. This is a full 20min slower than my PB, but considering all my body has been through in the past 13 months, I’ll take this. London marathon is in 4 weeks and it will be slow, hard, and painful, but I need to say goodbye to spring marathons for a while so I intend to run it again with a huge grin on my face for as long as I can.

Croydon Half Marathon, 31 March 2019, 1:56:24

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http://www.riverrunner.co.uk/109/croydon-half-race-report
Fri, 12 Apr 2019 08:37:44 GMTMelissa Fehrtag:www.riverrunner.co.uk,2019-04-05:d6ddade2dadbc9fd83d0ad61e0b88077/1bd54aa51880a40ae7b5d2f5b44b406chalf-marathonhealthDNS / Defer
I had one goal for 2018 – qualify for Boston again so I could run it next spring to celebrate my 40th birthday.

I’ve qualified a few times already, but never quite had the chance to actually run it, but with it being an off-year for the World Transplant Games and my marathon PB sitting untouched for the past 4(!) years, this was going to be my Year of the Marathon.

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I had one goal for 2018 – qualify for Boston again so I could run it next spring to celebrate my 40th birthday.

I’ve qualified a few times already, but never quite had the chance to actually run it, but with it being an off-year for the World Transplant Games and my marathon PB sitting untouched for the past 4(!) years, this was going to be my Year of the Marathon.

And my training was going really well right up until mid February, too – good strength training, I was fitting in run commutes to work, and I even got down to my target race weight a few months early, too.

And then I got sick.

At first, it was just the seasonal flu that went around my office. Seasonal flu, but one that multiple people told me was the worst they’d had in decades. So with my medical history, I determined that I’d probably be laid low for 3-4 weeks since it was taking normal people out for a week to ten days. Six weeks later, and I was finally starting to feel about 75% recovered, but missing six weeks at the height of marathon training meant that I’d now have to defer my London marathon place (having already DNSed the Big Half during the height of my flu) and I started looking around for other options over the summer to qualify before the Boston cutoff in mid-September.

And I’d just signed up to run Reykjavik marathon in August when I started to feel very, very unwell all over again. This time, it turned out, I’d come down with three other viruses simultaneously, all three of them very long-lingering and particularly nasty.

Culprit one – Parainfluenza. Despite the name, it’s not actually a type of flu, it can hang around for months, and knock you absolutely flat. And there’s no treatment.

Culprit two – Adenovirus. Apparently there is a treatment for this one, but you’ve got to test positive for it in more than one area of the body to qualify, and I (only) had it in my nose/throat/lungs, which count as one place.

Culprit three – my old pal the Epstein Barr Virus, aka mono, aka glandular fever. Nearly everyone has EBV laying dormant inside them at all times, but only special, immunosuppressed flowers like myself get to experience the joys of multiple EBV reactivations (for long-time followers, this is what took me out of action for 3 months in 2016).

So if you’ve ever had, or known anyone who’s had mono/glandular fever, imagine having that for, ooh, three months on top of two other nasty viral infections, after six weeks of horrific flu, and that’s been pretty much the whole of my 2018. I literally couldn’t get out of bed for days at a time, let alone go to work or anything social, and even just walking to the corner shop took an extreme amount of effort that would leave me in bed for the rest of the day. It was so bad that I had to get a “Please Offer Me a Seat” badge for the bus, as I couldn’t stand up for more than about ten minutes. I was beyoooooooooooond bored, beyond frustrated, and literally so jealous of everyone who was simply getting on with their life that I felt angry all the time, too.

Eventually, after being monitored, swabbed, tested, and spending days in hospital (having to fight not to be admitted at one point!), I eventually convinced them to give me the treatment for EBV, because I was simply not getting better on my own, and I had waited more than long enough.

The treatment for EBV is Rituximab, which is actually a pretty cool piece of bioengineering – they take mouse cells and graft human receptors onto the outside, which then bind to your lymphocytes, which are then targetted and killed by your immune system. Rituximab is given for a wide variety of auto-immune disorders, but since EBV lives inside your lymphocytes, it also works for that, too. And by “works”, I mean, it kills off half your immune system while also killing the virus. Yay. But at this point I would’ve drunken yak vomit if someone had said it’d make me feel better, so off to the chemo day unit I went, every Tuesday in June (and then into July, after the parainfluenza came back for a week and they postponed a treatment).

Oh yes, they can give you chemo for a viral infection! Rituximab may not make your hair fall out, but seeing as how they’re pumping animal cells all around your veins, people have a tendency to react badly to it the first time. I thought I’d be safe, since I was given it for my first EBV reactivation right after my transplant, but no, four hours into the first dose, and I started to feel the cotton ears, dizziness, and weird vision that I recognised from my years of reacting to platelet transfusions, so I slammed my hand on the nurse call button. The nurses paused the treatment, gave me two lots of IV piriton while they watched my blood pressure recover from a low of 80/40 (no, that’s not a typo). After an hour’s break, they restarted it, and another four hours later I could finally go home.

Luckily the other three doses were uneventful, and by the start of July, I actually started to feel a bit more energetic! Like, I could walk places and not need a lie down, and I could finally do a full day’s work, and I could cycle commute without feeling utterly awful (as an aside, taking it really slowly on the bike was WAY less energy and stress than taking a rush hour train). But not enough to ride 100 miles on a bike this weekend, so my ballot place for Ride 100 has also been deferred for next year.

So I’m at the point now, in mid-July, that I actually feel about 80% recovered, and I went for my first run back this week – a nice 5km around my local cemetery/park. But this does mean that I’ll be lucky to even run the 10km in Reykjavik next month (they host the marathon, half, 10km, and fun-run on the same day and you can switch between at the expo). And likewise, no British Transplant Games this year for me, as I was too sick during the registration period to have any hope of passing the physical.

And the dream to run Boston next spring is over, as there’s no way I can rebuild from this and qualify in time for September. And more than that, I feel cheated out of 5-6 months of my year. I was sick during the “Beast from the East” blizzard, and I was still sick during the heatwave, for godssake!

And the punchline to all this? I’d actually had the flu jab.

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http://www.riverrunner.co.uk/108/dns-defer
Fri, 20 Jul 2018 14:18:53 GMTMelissa Fehrtag:www.riverrunner.co.uk,2018-07-20:d6ddade2dadbc9fd83d0ad61e0b88077/3bd7ae4694f93df347623d55791c09d2healthmarathonstorytimeEmbrace the Off-Season
Over the past week, I’ve raised the concept of an “off-season” with three separate running friends, so I’ve decided it’s probably a topic worth discussing a little bit here, especially since many of us will have just finished up our big Fall races and are entering into that familiar post-race comedown…

…And that’s completely natural! If you’ve cared enough about a race to train for it, devote weeks or months of your life to thinking about your training and strategy, and worrying over every little aspect of it, then it makes sense that after it’s finished and the high fades away, you’re left with a bit of a “well what now?” feeling.

So I’m going to first tell you that you need to rest and recover, both physically and mentally. The length of this period will vary based on the length of your race, your age, running experience, and general physiology. In general, after a marathon I’ll take a full month off training before I go back into any serious speedwork or long runs, but equally it may well be less or more for you depending on what your heart rate is telling you (you do keep an eye on your resting heart rate, right??). So take lots of rest days, slob around at the weekends, go for long brunches, and go to bed early to top up on sleep. Take the extra time to do some cross-training if you like – yoga, pilates, and swimming are all good pursuits that you’ve probably neglected while focused on your race, so go and get yourself reacquainted now that you have the time and you feel like it.

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Over the past week, I’ve raised the concept of an “off-season” with three separate running friends, so I’ve decided it’s probably a topic worth discussing a little bit here, especially since many of us will have just finished up our big Fall races and are entering into that familiar post-race comedown…

…And that’s completely natural! If you’ve cared enough about a race to train for it, devote weeks or months of your life to thinking about your training and strategy, and worrying over every little aspect of it, then it makes sense that after it’s finished and the high fades away, you’re left with a bit of a “well what now?” feeling.

So I’m going to first tell you that you need to rest and recover, both physically and mentally. The length of this period will vary based on the length of your race, your age, running experience, and general physiology. In general, after a marathon I’ll take a full month off training before I go back into any serious speedwork or long runs, but equally it may well be less or more for you depending on what your heart rate is telling you (you do keep an eye on your resting heart rate, right??). So take lots of rest days, slob around at the weekends, go for long brunches, and go to bed early to top up on sleep. Take the extra time to do some cross-training if you like – yoga, pilates, and swimming are all good pursuits that you’ve probably neglected while focused on your race, so go and get yourself reacquainted now that you have the time and you feel like it.

But the length of physical recovery may be faster or slower than your mental recovery – the time it takes for you to not only get excited about running again, but actually crave the structure that a training schedule brings. So for me, this means that I’ll step down to a slower group at Run dem Crew and other group runs, both to preserve my legs a bit but also to give back to others and enjoy the process of chatting without struggling for breath. It’s nice to mix with a different set of people, but also to help encourage others who can’t really keep up their side of the conversation without difficulty!

But even on my solo runs, I’ll run fewer sessions in the off-season, and frankly, if I get up in the morning and don’t fancy going for a run, I don’t go. It doesn’t happen often, but there’s no point in trying to force the mojo when there’s not even an end goal, and it’s probably my body’s way of telling me I should focus on other things for a while. Even when I do head out for a run, I try not to be too prescriptive with myself on how far or at what pace I’ll run. I like to keep most of my runs at a low heart rate (Maffetone style!), but instead of having the stress of the watch beeping when I go a beat over 140, I instead go for a less precise “mouth closed” approach and choose routes that allow me to vary the length depending on how I feel.

So if you find yourself a bit lacking in running motivation after a big event, learn to embrace the off-season. It’s not smart or advisable to train hard all year long – I can’t think of a better way to encourage injury and burnout. Having these periods of downtime are what allow us to train to our peak during the training phases, and you need both to become a well-balanced runner and person.

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http://www.riverrunner.co.uk/107/embrace-the-off-season
Mon, 23 Oct 2017 17:34:35 GMTMelissa Fehrtag:www.riverrunner.co.uk,2017-10-23:d6ddade2dadbc9fd83d0ad61e0b88077/14c0d27f0e2e4b82432fb3481d577035cross-trainingmentalhealthDouro Ultra Trail (25km) - race report
This weekend I flew to northern Portugal to run down a mountain, and it had been three years in the making. You may remember that back in 2014 I ran the entirety of Berlin Marathon with a guy named Luis who I only barely knew at the start, but by the finish line had become my brother. For the past three years he’s been trying to convince me to come and visit him in Porto, and this year I finally made it over, with my friend Alex in tow. I chose the Douro Ultra Trail race from a shortlist of Luis’s suggestions because the scenery looked beautiful, there was a 25km option (as well as 15km, 45km, and 80km) which seemed to be a good distance for having a good chat and not suffering too much. Alex has only been running for about a year and never raced a half marathon before but was keen for an adventure, which seemed to be the right spirit for this race!]]>
This weekend I flew to northern Portugal to run down a mountain, and it had been three years in the making. You may remember that back in 2014 I ran the entirety of Berlin Marathon with a guy named Luis who I only barely knew at the start, but by the finish line had become my brother. For the past three years he’s been trying to convince me to come and visit him in Porto, and this year I finally made it over, with my friend Alex in tow. I chose the Douro Ultra Trail race from a shortlist of Luis’s suggestions because the scenery looked beautiful, there was a 25km option (as well as 15km, 45km, and 80km) which seemed to be a good distance for having a good chat and not suffering too much. Alex has only been running for about a year and never raced a half marathon before but was keen for an adventure, which seemed to be the right spirit for this race!

I signed up over the summer, when entries for the 25km were a bargainous €20 (plus an extra €3 as I wanted the long-sleeved race tee). I honestly don’t know how they can put on a race for so cheap, as we ended up with the aforementioned technical tee, huge feed station, decent race medal, and a bottle of local wine, too! Having arrived in Porto on a delayed flight, we only arrived at Regua just as the pre-race briefing was starting, and to our amusement, was entirely in Portuguese! Luis and his friends translated what we needed to know, which was really only that there were some irrigation holes about 4km into our race that we needed to be aware of (in reality, the other runners were great about shouting out and indicating at each of them). Everything else was really already stated on their Facebook page and website, so if you’re travelling to this race in future years, don’t feel like you need to kill yourself to get to the briefing on time.

We then headed downstairs to register, which was super quick and casual – each of us got a bag with our number (& timing chip), race tee, apple, and some local honey boiled sweets (hard candies). Our group then headed to an extremely nice local restaurant for dinner then to our hotel just before their midnight cutoff, ready to wake up at dawn to make the coach to the start in time. The ultra course is circular, beginning and ending in Regua, but the other distances start at other points on the route, with coaches ferrying runners to the start. The coaches for our race were super organised, each setting off once full and taking us up hugely steep and very narrow winding roads to the top of a mountain (making me very glad I didn’t choose the marathon or ultra races!). At the top of the hill was an open area with scenic views, bandstand, toilets (with no queue, omg!!), and two groups of traditional Portuguese drummers giving the whole thing a bit of gravitas. After basking in the morning sunshine for a half hour or so, the starting firecracker was pulled, and we were off downhill!

And downhill… and downhill… actually, the first 10km were almost entirely downhill, with a mix of loose rock, scree, pavements, and even thick, fine dust that wouldn’t have been out of place in the Sahara. Alex brought along his gaiters, which I thought were ridiculously overkill but actually worked out great, and I’d recommend them if you have them. The course elevation for the route this year looked to be almost entirely downhill or flat, but in reality there were still a LOT of hills. Not just steep hills, but downright ravines in places – I lost count of the number of times I had to use my hands to steady myself on trees, rocks, and the ground itself to scramble up or down a hillside, with only a few places having stone steps carved into the slope to help us out (and again, glad I wasn’t doing the ultra, where runners would be negotiating these in the dark!).

The result of the first 10km was to exhaust the brain, having to concentrate continuously on where the next footfall should land as well as attempting not to brake with your quads and knees (spoiler alert: my quads were wrecked anyway!). We went through several small towns along the way, wound through narrow, steep, and terraced vineyards, and absolutely stunning vistas. My photos don’t really capture the full beauty of the Douro Valley – every single scene we saw as we turned a corner could’ve been sold on a postcard or printed in a coffee table book.

Eventually we rounded a playing field and entered a larger town, where crowds of people lined the streets – we’d reached the start of the 15km “hike” option, where we got a boost from the runners waiting to start their race, but apparently missed the water stop that must’ve been there (at least we had our CamelBaks – on such a hot day, many others also missed it and were caught short before the only other pit stop).

I’ve mentioned the heat, but it’s worth noting that it’s not usually 28C and sunny in October in the Douro – we hit upon a rare heatwave, so slathered ourselves in suncream, ran in our sport sunglasses and caps, and wore shorts and vests as a last celebration of summer. I wore my trusty Vivobarefoot Trail Freak shoes, which I hadn’t race in since the Transylvania Bear Race last year. These served me ridiculously well in the Transylvanian (and English) mud, but on the dry, dusty, and rocky Portuguese trails, something with a sturdier sole would’ve been a bit better (and I know understand why Vivobarefoot now make trail shoes for soft or firm ground!).

In any case, Luis, Alex and I stuck together throughout the race, chatting to ourselves and the other runners throughout the race. I got very good at my two phrases in Portuguese (Hello and Thank you!), and I really liked that even with a small field (350 runners on the 25km, plus some of the faster 15km runners), there were no real stretches where you were alone, and the course was incredibly well marked with plastic tape at regular intervals so you really only just needed to follow the person ahead, or glance to see the next piece of tape. At the start, the three of us decided to take a casual pace, chatting, enjoying ourselves, and taking plenty of photos and GoPro videos to enjoy the day. There were definitely points where things got tough, but never any real low points where we stopped having fun.

When we reached the only feed station at 16km, we filled our CamelBaks and set upon the impressive array of snacks with abandon. As a salty sweater, I went straight in for the crisps, but kept coming back to the watermelon slices, too. I swear watermelon has never tasted so good in my life, so I thank the local boy scouts who spent the whole time chopping up fruit in the feed station building! Feeling fuelled but not full, we set off to conquer the final few kilometers back down into Regua, and seeing the Douro River was a big boost, even though only minutes later the course cut through a large section of vineyards that had recently been burnt by the wildfires that plagued this part of Portugal.

The whole race was a treat for the senses, but smelling the charred vines were in sharp contrast to the fresh air, flowers, and eucalyptus we’d enjoyed earlier in the day. Several other races in the area had been cancelled due to the wildfires, and indeed, we witnessed a fire with our own eyes on the drive back to Porto, so this part of the race really made us feel thankful for the unspoiled countryside we’d witnessed for the bulk of the race.

As we approached the riverside path, we looked at our GPS for the first time that day and saw we were several kilometers short, and were concerned that, even though we could see the race village, we’d have to loop around the town or something first. On reflection, our GPS measurements came up short because it’s measuring from the top down, as the crow flies. But we’d run through such elevation that the diagonal route we’d taken down and up created a discrepancy to the top-down view, meaning we’d actually run ~3km more than we’d tracked. You can tell I don’t run mountain races often – this is probably obvious to many people!

We crossed the line at the race village, were awarded our medals and local wine bottles, and immediately the emcee started interviewing me and asking about my race and my world championships and how my health was! Turns out Luis tipped them off that we were coming and they’d clearly seen my number and put two and two together very swiftly, hahah. The race village itself was quite small, but had a good selection of food and drinks (free) as well as a bar (paid) for anyone who fancied something stronger after their race.

In the tradition of ultras, our race was held on a Saturday, which meant we were able to head back to our hotel to wash the copious dust, sweat, and salt off before heading back to Porto and exploring it the next day. We spent the morning hobbling about, exploring the city, marvelling at the vistas, and drinking or well-earned wine along the same river we’d run to the day before.

Having never been to Portugal before, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but Alex and I both utterly adored our time there. I’d recommend the Douro Ultra Trail to anyone who’s interested, but do not underestimate the toughness of the course. As someone who can run a 1:45 half marathon without too much effort, I expect to run this 25km downhill in about 2-2:15ish but in reality, we finish in just over 3 hours! I’d imagine if I’d done the 45km it’d probably have taken me around 5 or 6 hours, so be sure you prepare and (if possible) get some trail experience on hard, rocky ground, which I think would’ve really helped me.

In terms of enjoyment, adventure, and value for money, you really can’t beat the Douro Ultra Trail. I’m only sorry it took me three years to actually take Luis up on his offer!